Bound by Blood
by Nightwhisp
Summary: Fang's always had a pretty suckish life, abused by his father in every way, but now he's free. Living on the city streets but free. But what will happen when he meets Max? And who's the mysterious man that looks so familiar and claims to be his brother?
1. Chapter 1

**New story! Yeah! Criticism is always welcome, along with suggestions on future ways to make the story better. Hey…that's pretty much the same thing isn't it? Oh well. Yeah, I know this is similar to my other story, Suffer in Silence. Warnings: maybe a little graphic, definite language.**

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><p><span>Third Person POV<span>

_The boy walks through the alley alone, searching for a place to sleep for the night. Cloaked in black he all but blends into the dark of night, the gleam of his eyes and the pale color of his skin the only thing giving him away. _

_The boy knows he's in a dangerous neighborhood to be in at night with all the drunken, criminal men running around and yet still he comes, desperate for even the slightest bit of money. It's a dangerous game though; he has to pick the right drunk because if he picks the wrong one he'll have more to lose than just the pocket he was trying to rob. _

_He moves silently through the alley, undetected but for the two men who have been following him. They boy hasn't noticed them, his normally sharp senses dulled by hunger and exhaustion. _

_Sliding down the wall he senses the danger a moment too late, leaping to his feet at the same time the two men jump for him. _

_One of them slams him into the wall, pinning him there while the other reaches around to grab the boy's wrists. _

_The boy frantically struggles, fully aware of what they want. He knows he can give it to them, maybe even make some money for it, but no, he's going to the last second, when he knows it's happening no matter what._

_He rams his knee up into the man pinning him to the wall, hitting him right in the stomach._

_The man gasps then presses him further into the wall, pressing his knee between the boy's legs, grinding it against him. "You're gonna pay for that, _bitch_," he hisses and the boy can practically _taste_ the alcohol on his breath. _

_Knowing a lost fight, aware that he can't escape the two men, the boy swallows, chokes down his pride, and gives his offer. "$100, each, and you get a night you'll never forget." _

_The other man laughs long and heard. "Look at that Artie, the kid expects _us _to pay _him_!"_

"_You can have me kicking and screaming at fighting or I can make you both very…_happy_," the boy says._

_The first man shrugs. "I like 'em fighin'."_

"_Will you cry baby?" the second man asks, reaching up to stroke the boys cheek. "Are you a crier?"_

_The boy narrows his eyes then does what he's been trained to do, rubbing against the man. He'll get him money, one way or another._

_The second man lets go of the boy's wrists, moving behind him and wrapping his arms around the boy's waist. _

_Then, not for the first time and doubtfully the last time, the boy is taken, his body used like a toy and cast aside._

Fang's POV

Crawling out from the cardboard box I'd slept in last night I have to hold back a groan of soreness. Stupid men.

I reach to the back of the choker I wear and pull out the money I managed to grab from the tow pervs last night. $150. Not the $200 I'd been hoping for but better than nothing. More than I had yesterday morning. I slip the money into my pocket and finger the choker, feeling for any extra looseness, something a person could grab onto.

It's skin tight, like always, but with enough room for me to slip some money through. It's where I put the cash I can wheedle out of drunken, and sometimes not, pervs who want a quick fuck.

I lay out, pressing my sore back against the cold wall.

Food first, that's my biggest concern. Then some new cloths. Then I'll have to make whatever I have left last. It's a hard life living on the streets but I'd take it any day over a life with my father. At least on the streets I don't have to worry about a demented man with tasers and whips coming after me. No, that's only in my dreams now, I'm sure he has no idea where I am. I don't even have to worry about hiding the bruises and cuts, hiding the blood and the pain, from the normal people. On the streets I'm free of my father's control.

I need a back pack too. I want more than just one outfit and I'll need somewhere to put anything else I manage to get my hands on. A blanket would be nice, it can get pretty cold at night.

I need a shower. I can't exactly walk the streets in the day looking like a bloody dirty mess. It would attract too much attention. The fastest way would be to just break into an empty house.

Someone must be on my side today because the fourth house I check is empty. Of course, you never know how long they'll _stay_ empty so I'll have to be fast.

Trying the window first I decide that someone has finally decided to take some pity on me because it slides open easily.

I take a quick tour of the small apartment, just to be sure that it's really empty, then take advantage of their bathroom, showering under scalding hot water. This must be a woman's place, the soap scents and the brush a dead giveaway.

At this point though, I don't really care if I smell like Cherry Blossoms or not, as long as I'm clean. I'm starting to feel the bugs I always feel if I don't somehow clean myself after a night with a guy...or 2…..or 5…once it was 10….

Once I'm done with my shower I borrow a fluffy white towel and dry, then redress in my dirty, torn, and bloody clothes, ruining the clean effect.

I take the time to brush out my hair then raid her kitchen, taking a little of everything so she's less likely to notice anything missing.

_Click._ The front door, I'm gone out the window and down the street.

I stop at the first street corner I pass, buying a pretzel from the vendor there, hoping to quell my rumbling stomach a little. Even a tiny bit.

The only good thing about the men not taking my deal was that I didn't have to suck them off so I don't have to worry about throwing up.

It's been two…ish…months…maybe three…since I ran away. Left home, left my father. It's been just the two of us since my mom died when I was 5 and my twin died 2 years ago.

My home life has always sucked, for as long as I can remember my dad knocked my around. Raven too if I couldn't keep him off her. I tried so hard not to let him touch her….I think he used to hit my mom too but I was too young to remember.

The day it all changed I was 6. I don't know _what_ changed, but something did because from that day forward he hit me all the time. That was also the first day he raped me.

He used to….touch…me but that was the first time he went further. It hurt so much. I carried and screamed and-

Shaking my head I push the memories from my mind. I'm not going back there. I'm free.

I look up, realizing I've started walking and that my pretzel has vanished. People are staring at me. But then again, who wouldn't stare at a too skinny 15 year old boy in torn up dirty black clothes wearing fingerless black gloves and a black choker with long black hair and 4 piercings along his right ear? I'm sure the cut under my left eye and the bruise on my left cheek aren't helping much. Even in the city I still stand out.

Not noticing how far I've come I have to double back to the Goodwill. It doesn't take me long to find a few black jeans, long sleeve shirts, t-shirts, and a jacket. I also find a simple, durable, _black_ backpack. It's pretty small too. And the whole thing only costs $10. Gotta love Goodwill.

It feels great to be walking around in _clean_ somewhat new clothes and not attract as much attention.

Ok, food next. What's closest? I'm near the Goodwill….ya know what? I'm just gonna pick a direction and walk.

Still a bit amped from last night if feels like every guy I pass is _watching_ me, waiting for me to give them an opportunity.

I stick near the edge out the crowd as I walk. Without realizing it I head out toward the edge of the city, to the houses in the quaint little neighborhoods. It's kinda weird actually, almost like walking through a door, city to suburbs.

McDonalds! That's what's closest to the Goodwill.

Veering in I quickly get in line, hoping that even though it's before 11:00 I can still get lunch. But then again, beggars can't be choosers.

Not that I'd ever beg. For _anything_. Even begging is below me.

I order enough for 3 people, ignoring the questioning look from the person taking my order.

Once I've paid I take my food and debate walking out but decide to just sit and a real table and chair for once. It'll be nice.

Even with a full stomach and $120 I'll still have to work the streets. I've learned from experience how fast money can vanish. I'm not the only street rat out here. Plenty of people need food and money. They'll jump you in a second if they think they can get away with it, weather you look like you have money or not.

I prefer the old fashioned way, silently snatching the money then disappearing, leaving then to figure it out the next time they go to pay for something.

Sometimes, if I'm not too desperate or the streets aren't too bad I just take the money and return their wallet. I don't use the credit cards anyway.

Biting into the burger I can't hold back a whimper. It tastes so good. I enjoy the first bite, swallow, then shove food into my mouth as fast as I can.

I get half way through my second burger before I realize I realize I should slow down a little because people are starting to look at me.

Sure, I'm wearing clean cloths and my hair's not tangled and knotty but I'm eating like a starved person – I _am_ a starved person – and I still have the bruise and cut on my face and I'm aware of how painfully skinny I am. The baggy clothes help a little but it's still pretty obvious I'm an unhealthy weight.

I look up and watch the people around me as I eat, naturally suspicious of everyone.

Happy families, a mother and her two kids, probably about 6 and 8. A group of teenagers, a single man. I glance at the door as it opens. Two girls, probably about my age walk in. One of them has brown hair with lighter blonde streaks and pretty brown eyes. The other is blonde with blue eyes. I can't seem to look away from the first girl.

She's pretty but she looks tough too. She's smirking about something and her eyes have an excited gleam in them. I wonder what they're talking about.

I sigh and reach for another fry then realize I'm out of food. Damn… I can't exactly go order more…. As hungry as I am if I eat too much I_ will _get sick.

I grumpily get up and walk out, bumping into the girl as I pass her. My hand flashes toward her pocket then I freeze, something stopping me from grabbing her wallet from where I can see it in her pocket, stopping me from stealing her money.

"Watch where you walk," she says, then laughs a bit.

"Sorry," I mumble and turn to leave.

"Hey, wait," she says grabbing my ar. "You look familiar. Do I know you?"

I resist jerking away, running. I feel my muscles tense under the contact. As much as I'm skin and bone I'm pretty strong too.

"Heellloooo?"

"No," I whisper, my voice raw because I don't use it very often. "You don't know me." I'd defiantly remember a face like hers.

"Maybe not but I've defiantly seen you around," she continues, looking at me closely.

I shake my head a bit, making more hair fall into my face shielding it from her view.

"JJ doesn't he look familiar?"

"We're in the city Max, we've probably passed him on the streets," the other girl, JJ, shrugs.

What kind of name is Max for a girl? Maxine?

"Probably, but it's more than that," Max insists. "You…look like….my neighbor! That's it! JJ, doesn't he look like Christian?"

"Sure, I guess. Christian's hair is shorter though and he's tanner. And he's like, 10 years older."

Max rolls her eyes. "Aside from that."

"Aside from that," JJ agrees.

"What's your name?" Max asks.

I quickly avert my eyes and look at the ground, wishing she would just let me go. I could easily just rip my arm free but something's stopping me. The same thing that stopped me from stealing her money.

"Hey, I asked you something," Max snaps impatiently.

"…..Fang….." I say, barely audible.

"Well Fang," Max says releasing my arm, "Maybe I'll see you around."

I take half a second to nod before taking off out the door and down the street.

_Maybe I will see Max again._ That could be nice, she seems ok.

But no, I've learned long ago never to trust anybody. You only get hurt. Raven trusted me and now she's dead. Trust gets you hurt. Trust gets you killed.

Never. Trust. Anyone.

I run a few more blocks then duck into an alley, slowing to a walk.

_Clank._ It's faint but I hear it, a person shifting and bumping against metal. The sound came from a few feet in front of me.

I calmly keep walking, pretending I hadn't heard a thing, senses on high alert, muscles tense.

I should probably just turn around and walk away. That would be the smart thing to do. I'm stronger but still pretty weak and if I get in a fight with this person then I'll lose my money and probably get hurt too.

It's worth the risk though. There's always the possibility that U could win and they could have something useful. Plus, I'm still tense from my encounter with Max. A fight would feel good.

~~~Fang~~~

_Slam._ Ok, maybe I should have just walked away. I stifle a yelp as I'm thrown into the wall and a groan as I slide down.

It's rare to run into s streeter this muscular and strong. He looks surprisingly well taken care of, not too hungry or tired or anything. _That's _why I'm getting my butt kicked.

Correction, _just got_ my butt kicked.

"You're…..good…." I gasp out, always one to recognize a fighter.

He smirks and comes over, kicking me in the stomach as I try to get up.

I slam into the wall, his foot still going into my stomach. Ruthless. My arms wrap around my stomach when he moves his foot. I gasp desperately for air, trying to get some, even a little, in my lungs.

He leans down, reaching into my pockets, trying to find any money. I'm glad I switched in back to my choker. People rarely think to look there.

Feeling his hands on my gives me a new surge of adrenaline and I grab his wrist and twist hard.

"Little fighter, are we? Don't like to be touched?" he sneers. "Don't worry you won't feel a thing."

There's a sickening crack as he slams my head into the wall.

Black spots immediately swim over my vision but he's wrong, I _do_ feel him, fighting like I always do when oblivion calls me into its back depths. I feel his hands in my front pockets then my back. I seize the second he rolls me over but all my energy is focused on staying conscious so my body stays limp. Next he pulls off my gloves, smart brute he is. Kindly he leaves them, not that they'd fit him anyway.

"You have to have _something_. These clothes are pretty new and I can smell the fast food on you too…" he mutters to himself. "Where do you keep it?"

I feel his eyes scanning my body, looking for somewhere I could conceal money. He rolls me over, examines my back then my front.

"Ha! Got it!" he snaps his fingers. "Sneaky little devil."

He rolls me back so I'm laying on my stomach and brushes my hair aside, revealing the $120 I have tucked in the choker.

He takes a second to count it then slaps my back like he's an old friend. "Thanks for the donation."

And then he's gone, leaving me to the feel of his hands, my father's hands, other's hands, all over me, as I sink into the abyss.

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><p><strong>Ok, for all my Suffer in Silence readers, I promise to still work on that the updates will just be less frequent. As for this, it's just a matter of typing it up because I have it written down. Please review!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Come on people, I need reviews as incentive! The more reviews I get the faster I update!**

Fang's POV

"Oh my gosh, do you think he's alright?" a woman's worried voice drags me back to consciousness.

I take a quick body check; my stomach is probably pretty bruised, my ribs are sore, my back's killing me, my heads throbbing, and I'm sure I have a few more bruises as well. No broken bones or blood though, I think.

"I don't know…." A man's voice says, sounding concerned.

That voice…it's…familiar…

"Do something," the woman orders.

"He might be violent Lila, what if he wakes up and attacks us?"

"He needs help Christian!" the one called Lila shouts.

"Bu-!" Christian starts to protest then sighs. "Fine but if I get hurt it's your fault."

"You won't get hurt, you know how to take care of yourself."

The man makes a sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh and I hear his footsteps coming closer.

I slowly crack my eyes open, wincing at the bright day. I'm laying on my stomach with my face turned toward the wall. They won't know I'm awake yet, I can take them by surprise.

I try to get up a little but I can barely move before I'm hit with a wave of nausea and pain.

The man's footsteps stop and I hear him shift as he crouches down. My breath catches as he presses two fingers to my neck, feeling for a pulse.

"He's alive."

"Is he ok?"

"I don't know….I can't see any injuries….but…" he trails off and I feel him place a hand on my hip and shoulder then rolls me onto my back.

"What's wrong?" the woman asks, cautiously coming closer.

"I don't see any blood….maybe…" he reaches up and brushes the hair off my face then gasps, going pale like he's seen a ghost.

I gasp too. He has dark hair that falls just a little past his ears and dark green eyes. They seem deep and have a slight hint of hollowness. His skin is a medium tan-ish color and he has a small scar across the bridge of his nose and on the side of his mouth, turning it down on one side so he has a tiny permanent frown. Other than that he's fairly handsome and very…._very_ familiar looking.

We stay like that for a while, frozen, staring onto each other's eyes until Lila tentatively says, "Christian?"

"…Yeeaaaahhhh?" he answers distractedly.

I blink and he recoils away from me. I jump up and run, ignoring the pain and nausea.

"Nick…?" I hear him whisper, just barely.

Christian's POV

"Christian? Who's Nick?" Lila asks gently, laying a hand on my arm.

"He's….no one….no one important," I lie.

"Come on, let's get you home, you've had a long day," she says softly.

"Yeah…."

We walk the rest of the way home in silence and I can tell Lila is watching me. She can sense something wrong, she's always been able to.

I slip my hand into hers and smile a bit. "I bet Lily missed you."

I guess there must really be some kind of strong mother child bond because I really don't understand how Lila can love Lily so much considering she didn't even _want_ children. She was only 19 when she got pregnant. She's 25 now, Lily's 6.

When we get back to my small little flat I kiss her good night and she goes to her place across the street.

I lock one of the locks on my door then go to the kitchen and put a pizza in the oven.

That kid today…..he's the right age….He looks so much like Nick….my baby brother…..

Not that I deserve to be called a brother.

I sigh and go to my bedroom, dig around in my closet until I find the small box. Inside the box is mostly pictures. Pictures of my family. I find the one I'm looking for: me, at age 13, my mom and dad, Nick and Lauren, twins, age 3, smiling and giggling. If you look close you can see the edge of a bruise peeking out from under my sleeve. A gift from my father, abusive bastard.

I look closely at baby nick then think of the boy. They have the same black eyes. The boy was paler and had a haunted look, almost scared. Their hair was the same too, only baby Nicks was shorter.

Of course, the boy looked to be about the correct age, 15. That's how old Nick would be now. Ten years younger than me.

I sit cross-legged on the floor and look at the rest of my family. My dead mother with her pretty light brown hair and soft blue/grey eyes. Lauren with her shoulder length black hair and green eyes. My father, black hair cropped short, his eyes a less intense shade of green than mine and Lauren's seem to smolder and glare at me.

No, the boy I saw can't be Nick, he's never have left Lauren alone. They just seemed similar, my mind playing tricks on me.

I sigh, return the pictures and box to their place, and go to eat my pizza.

Fang's POV

Why….why did that man look so familiar? It finally strikes me that he and I share a lot of small features. Our eyes were the same shape. He also looked like my father….

I shake my head and curl tighter under my makeshift shelter, hoping it doesn't rain tonight.

**I know that there are people who would like the chapters to be longer but I'm sorry. If I make them longer they'll take me way longer to update because by the time I get hom from swimming I'm really tired so I do most of my typing on weekends. **

**Also, PLEASE, anyone who has any suggestions on how to make my story better please tell me, I'd LOVE to hear what you have to say. **_PLEASE REVIEW IT'S MY REASON FOR WRITNG AND THE MORE I GET THE MORE LIKELY I AM TO UPDATE FASTER_**.**

**One more thing, I promise to my SiS reader to do my very best to get the next chapter up within a week.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Quick disclaimer: I do not own the Maximum Ride books!**

**Please review!**

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><p><span>Fang's POV<span>

Of course it rained last night, I wake up sick and sore and feeling sick.

It wouldn't surprise me if I caught something, that happens a lot on the streets.

I sigh and get up, stretching and cracking in multiple places. My shoulder pops painfully. I grit my teeth and rolls it back into place, making a loud snap as it goes.

I should probably hit the drugstore, it would be bad if I got too sick.

I walk out of the alley and take a moment to figure out where I am then head for the drugstore.

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><p>"Oh, hey Fang," a girl's voice says behind me.<p>

I jump and nearly have a heart attack, whirling around and coming face to face with max. It's been so long since anyone greeted me so casually, or at all really.

I glance at the then turn back to the shelf I was examining. Who knew there were so many different types of medicine?

"Little on the rude side today, aren't we?" she teases.

I shrug, trying to find something to help with the headache I have but the multitude of various brightly colored boxes are only making it worse.

"What are you looking for?" she asks.

I shrug, not exactly sure.

"Well, what are you here for?"

""My sister," I whisper, not really able to talk louder.

"Hey, me too. She's not feeling well so my mom asked me to run out here and get some medicine."

I nod.

"So, older or younger sister?"

I hesitate then say, "Younger." It's not a _complete_ lie. Raven _is_ younger than me – by 5 minutes – and she _isn't _feeling well. She's dead…._ My fault._

"You look a bit lost. What do you need?"

"Headache….sore throat…"

"Sounds more like _you're_ the one that's sick," she points out.

"I'm fine," I say shortly.

"Hm, really? Well, you've got that whole raw voice thing going on and you're pale, not to mention you look like you took a few hits."

"Why do you care?" _No one cares. I'm worthless. Pointless. Failure. Idiotic. No one loves me. Unimportant. _

"I don't know. You just look like you need help," she says, handing me two boxes. I get the feeling she's not just talking about help with the medicine.

"I don't need anyone," I say, and under my breath I add, "And no one needs me."

_Not anymore._ Raven was the only one who ever needed me. Look how well _that_ worked out. I failed. She's dead. It's my fault. Enough said.

"Everyone needs someone. That's why we have families and friends."

I shrug and walk away, heading for the bandages. It's risky to steal too much at a time from one place, more noticeable, but I just need to get away from Max.

She grabs a few boxes and follows me. "Are you new in the city? I don't think I've ever seen you before."

"Few months," I say simply, trying not to strain my throat.

"Hm…Really. Well I live toward the edge of the city, in the little in between place where it's sorta city but mostly suburb, you know?"

I nod. I like that area, calm and peaceful but still has some city noise. The houses have yards but are still fairly close together. They have a smoother quality, not rough like the city apartments. They're nice. I wonder which one max lives in. I find myself wondering about her family then force the thoughts to stop, focus on ditching Max.

"Where do you live?" she asks.

"Middle of the city," I say. It's not really a lie. I rend to stay toward the middle of the city.

"Two crowded there for my tastes. What about you? How do you like it?"

I shrug. What won't she just _leave?_

She opens her mouth to say more then fishes around in her pocket and pulls out her phone. "Ug, gotta get home see you!" she says and runs to the front of the store to pay.

I watch her then start picking at the barcode of the medicine, trying to get it off.

Watching for anyone to notice me I pretend to be looking at bandages and stuff.

Once the barcodes are successfully removes I casually walk out.

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><p>Two days late I feel worse, the medicine not helping at all. Stupid rain.<p>

I haven't seen max since the day in the drugstore. I've thought about her a lot though. Something about her just…attracts me…

Not romantically or anything, just….I wish we could get to know each other. Be friends. I know that's impossible, that it could never happen, but still….

The last two days have sucked majorly. Not the _worst_ days in my life but not the best either.

I got raped 3 times, _hard_, once by a drunk and twice by completely sober jackasses.

I also got attacked 5 times. Three times they just got me down, figured out I didn't have any money and left. The other two beat me up.

Starving, cold, and sick I'm laying curled up in a dark alley. The sun is high in the sky but I'm shivering hard. I'm sure I have a burning fever but my mind and body are telling me I'm buried in ice. I'm also nauseous, the headache only worse, throbbing from where my head was cracked against the wall.

Clueless as to what to do next I lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness, trying to make a plan. I'm also bleeding from what just happened with a man.

I don't bleed often anymore, 9 years can do that, but if they do it hard enough or rough enough I'll bleed for a bit.

Footsteps walk past the alley. I think nothing of it at first, sure that while I'm not top far back that I _am_ hidden in shadow. I begin to doubt that though, as the footsteps double back.

I hear two people walking – a man and a woman, with familiar voices – but I can't make out their words.

One of them, the man, quickly comes over.

I feel the black void calling to me and as I sink into it I hear the man whisper, "_Nick."_

Christian's POV

"It's so nice that you finally have a full day off," Lila says as we walk down the street.

It's early morning so it's not too crowded but it's a city so it's not exactly deserted too.

"Mmhm," I breathe, lightly squeezing her hand. " It was nice of Max to watch Lily for you."

"Max is a saint," Lila smiles.

"if you say so."

Not that I have anything against Max, she really is a saint, but she's also a smart mouth teenager. She reminds me of me at her age.

"It's nice to have a cheap – or free – babysitter close by."

"It means that we can actually be _alone_ sometimes."

Lila smiles and opens her mouth to say something then tugs my hand and forces me to backtrack to the alley we just passes. "What's that?"

"What's wh-" I start then see what she's talking about, or rather _who_ she's talking about.

The boy. I quickly cross over to him.

"_Nick,"_ I whisper, sure of it now. He's Nick. He's my baby brother that I walked away from 9 years ago.

"Christian?" Lila calls, snapping me out of my daze.

I quickly turn my attention to the rest of the boy. He's lying propped against the wall on his side. He's deathly pale aside from his flushed face and he's shivering like crazy. It's obvious he's sick and has a fever and from the look on his face he's clearly in pain. I can't see any blood or anything that looks like blood but you never know.

I cautiously roll him over onto his stomach so I can see if his back's hurt.

"Oh…" Lila says sadly as she sees the dark blood spot on the back of his jeans.

"Oh, Nick," I sigh.

"Christian? Who's Nick?"

"I-I'll tell you later, promise, but right now he needs help."

Lila nods and I carefully scoop the boy up, trying not to hurt him more.

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><p>When we get back to my house, luckily it's not far, I lay him on the couch. Then, just to be sure, I brush the hair away from his neck, the right side near the top back. It's there, the identical <em>C <em>burn, same as I have, same spot. The mark – the brand – of my – our – father.

"I'm sorry Nick," I say softly then shake my head, firmly pushing all thoughts of the past from my head and go into pure doctor mode. "Lila, help me get his jacket off then get ice," I order.

Together Lila and I easily manage to get the jacket off the I drape it over the back of the couch while Lila scurries to the kitchen.

Rolling his shirt up, I gasp. His torso is covered in scars, words, and his stomach is basically just one big bruise. Without the cover of the loose jacked it's painfully obvious how incredibly skinny he is. The scars…I have my fair share of scars but no _words._

Right across his chest, going from his right shoulder down toward his left hip is the word _worthless_ and I find myself wondering how much he really believes what our father carved into his body, _how much_ out father carved into his body. A wave of guilt crashes over me.

I shake it off and check him over. Aside from the bruises, some small cuts, and the blood on his jeans – I'm not going there, it'll take care of it's self soon enough – I don't see any serious injuries. He's covered with scars, words all over his body. It's terrible.

"What's wrong with him?" Lila asks.

"I'm not quite sure. He's probably just sick and hungry because the bruises and cuts are the only injuries I can see. I can't do much for bruises," I tell her as I take care of the cuts.

"So what are we going to do?"

"I-I'm – I don't…." I trail off uncertain. "I guess we just have to wait until he wakes up."

"Oh," Lila nods.

A few hours later, after Lila's gone, the boy starts to wake up.

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><p><strong>Please review! Pleasepleaseplease! They make me feel sooo good and happy!<strong>

_IMPORTANT! _**I'm thinking of typing up another story I have written. What do you think? It's another Fang abuse story but it has Fang actually living with his father as opposed to after he gets away. Do you think I should type it up and post it? I also need a name, so if you have an idea submit that with your vote in a review. Thaaaaanks!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Reviews! Please people, I actually kinda want flames just to see what you **_**don't **_**like about my story. **

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><p><span>Fang's POV<span>

I stifle a groan as I wake up, confused and disoriented where …. the alley. Right, slowly I put a hand to my head and slowly open my eyes. I feel like _crap_. Of course, I instantly jump up, not recognizing where I am. It's a house; I'm in the living room, on the couch. Well, I _was_ on the couch. Now I'm looking around for the door trying to see through the black and white spots clouding my vision.

"Hey, hey, lay down, you're sick and hurt," a man says.

I whirl around and see the man from the alley sitting on a chair watching me, an open book in his lap.

"Who are you?" I hiss, taking a step back.

"It's me Nick, your brother. It's Christian," he says earnestly.

"I'm not Nick!" I shout. The last shred of Nick died the day I ran away. "And I don't have a brother."

Nick was weak. Nick submitted to my father. Nick was a whimp who never fought back. Nick was a worthless little shit.

Nick's not completely dead though. Nick comes back. Nick takes all the blows. Nick takes all the hits. Nick submits to the men and what they want.

I'm the strong one. I fight back. I scream and fight and kick until the last second, until Nick breaks free of the bonds.

He's not really a multiple personality; he's just a way for me to distance myself a little more from what happens to me. I pretend Nick takes the blows and I take the pain. It works.

I turn my attention aback to the man, Christian. He looks like I just slapped him.

"No… Nick… I know it's been 9 years… you were only 6…but you can't have completely forgotten me…" he says in a sort breathless voice.

I stagger back a few steps. "I am not Nick," I firmly say.

"Yes you are," he says, almost desperately. "Nicholas Dante. You have a twin sister, Lauren Dante. Our mother is dead. Our father is Christopher Dante and I am your brother, Christian Dante."

"No, no, no, no!" I yell, backing away further.

Raven…Lauren…Ra-Lau-Rav-Laur-Rave…Lauren…her real name, Lauren. She always hated it. Nicholas… I never had a problem until all I heard when anyone said my name was my Father's acidic voice.

We were 8 when Raven said we needed to get away from him. Have our own little secret from him. She came up with Fang for me, I came up with Raven for her.

She insisted everyone call her Raven, everyone but our father who never knew about our nicknames. She made all her friends call her Raven, teachers too, but she still answered to Lauren. The only time I answered to Nick, after she named me Fang, was to my father.

"_Yes,_ Nick come on _think_. I know you remember me," he presses.

"No!"

I'm dully aware of falling to my knees and clutching my head as a rush of memories floods my mind.

_Raven and I sitting on Christian's lap as he reads to us. Christian teaching us to swim at the local pool. Christian jumping between me and our father. Christian getting hit. Christian getting hurt. Christian screaming while Raven and I hide in my room. Christian slipping into my room one night, thinking I'm asleep. Standing for a minute, a hushed '_I'm sorry'_ a whispered '_goodbye_', a hand lightly brushing my cheek as it pulls the covers up. Falling back into a peaceful sleep. Knowing my big brother Christian was watching over me. Waking up to the worst day of my life. _

Nonono! "No!" I shout. I blocked these memories for a _reason. _Made it look like he never existed. Dad didn't talk about him. I didn't let myself remember him. Raven… she never tried to talk about him. Except once. Just once, we had just turned 7, a couple weeks after Christian had left.

"_Nick, when's Christian coming back." she asked me as I tenderly bandaged a cut on my arm._

"_Who?" I replied coldly, having already convinced myself he never existed._

"_Our brother Nick. Our older brother. He'd be 17 now. Tall, dark hair green eyes."_

"_We don't have a brother. We don't have any older siblings. It's just us and him."_

"_But Nick," she says almost desperately._

"_Me, you and him, Lauren. That's the way it is, always has been, always will be."_

_She looked at me sadly then nodded. "You and me." Uncertainty._

"_You and me," I confirmed._

She never brought him up again after that.

"Nick." Christian says with concern.

"I'M NOT NICK!" I shout.

"Ok, ok," he says obviously trying to calm me down.

I get up and turn to go, walk out on him like he walked out on me, but before I get a step his voice stops me.

"Please! Don't go Ni-… You're sick and hurt and you've got to be starving. Please stay for a bit. I want to talk to you."

"Why? Why should I? Give me one good reason to stay! One good reason to trust you," I counter harshly.

"Because I'm your brother," he says, trying to sound strong but I can hear the hurt undertones.

"My brother died years ago when he walked out and left me and my twin sister Raven alone to deal with our father," I say with a voice as cold as ice.

Now he looks like I slapped him..… with a fish..… that's still alive. Good, I'm trying to hurt him.

"I-I had to leave. You don't know –"

"_**I**_don't know? You don't know _what_ I know! What drove you to leave? What finally made you decide it was too much?

"He-he wanted me to …." my 'brother' struggles for words.

"Oh, he wanted you to _do_ something? " I shout. "What did she want you to do, _dear brother_?" I put as much venom into the last two works as I can.

"He wanted me to-to ... with o-other..." he chokes out.

"He wanted you to crawl into bed with the men that would pay him and give them a good time," I say for him, keeping my voice icy.

Christian nods helplessly.

"And you left," I say. "You wouldn't take it to protect us?"

He looks at me shocked, "How did you know?"

"I know a lot more than you think_, brother_, "I hiss. "I probably know more than you do."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" he asks no long trying to calm me.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I sneer. I don't doubt what I said but I don't exactly want to assume anything either. If I want to win I have to let him talk more than me.

"What did he do to you? When I left you were such a sweet kid. What happened?" he asks, back to soothing and gentle.

"What happened? My brother walked away! My brother left me!"

"Why do you keep saying my brother? I am right here just say you."

"You are _not _my brother," I tell him.

"Please N-"

"I'm not Nick."

"Fine, what do you call yourself?" he asks, a note of irritation creeping into his voice.

Should I tell him? How much should I tell him? How much does he _deserve_ to know? Nothing. He doesn't deserve anything.

"What do you want from me? An apology? To say I'm a horrible person and brother? I already know that. I'm already sorry. What do you want?"

What _do_ I want? I don't care about whether or not he's sorry or if he knows what a bad person he is. No…what I want is-

"What did he do? What did he do to you?"

That's what I need. How much I took compared to how much he took is directly proportional to how mad at him I can be plus the fact that he left.

"What do you mean?"

"It's not a complicated question," I say like he's an idiot. "What would he do to you?"

He stares at me and I can see him internal battle over whether or hot he wants to tell me. He's kidding, I freaking deserve to know. He owes me that much.

I patiently wait for him to talk.

"Mostly he would just hit me when he was mad or drunk. He started when I was about 7. He would go after Mom too. When she got pregnant with you and Lauren it got worse. The first time he – he-" he cuts off. He can't even say it.

"Raped you," I fill in.

"…I was 10…He couldn't do anything with Mom because he could have hurt you. When you were old enough to not need her all the time he layed off me a bit but still hit me a lot. I tried to protect her. You too if I had to. When Mom died…..it all went to hell. That last year he was awful. Uncontrollable. He would…..daily. Hit me all the time. It got harder and harder to hide it from my friends. Then he started in with the other men and I left."

I take a moment to consider it. I do vaguely remember him getting worse after mom died. Then again he also got a lot worse when Christian left too.

"That was it? That was _all_ he would do? Hit you and rape you? Nothing else?" I ask, my words implying there should be more but my tone giving nothing away.

"I don't know what you mean. He would cut me sometimes. I still have the scars. Is that what you're looking for?" he asks and takes his shirt off.

Looking his chest over I see a number of scars. Straight lines, zigzags, curves, patterns. I see the same on his back as he turns. All the scars however are contained to what could be covered by a short sleeved shirt.

I reach up to unzip my jacket then realize that I'm not wearing it. I pull off my gloves and take my shirt off like Christian did and toss it to the side.

Christian doesn't look as shocked as I expected which concerns me a bit. He should have at least gasped, unless he's that good at hiding his emotions, which I doubt.

"I know," he says with a sad sigh. "I saw then when I checked you over."

"What?"

"You were passed out and sick! I couldn't just leave you there! And I'm a doctor, it's not like I didn't know what I was doing!"

"You didn't have a problem leaving me to our father! How was that any different?"

You can practically feel the tension, anger, and frustration rolling off me and Christian.

My throat's practically screaming and f I keep yelling too much I might lose my voice or something. A glass of water would feel really good right now.

"I didn't think he's start on you!"

"That's a lie and we both know it! You knew he's start on me and Raven the second you weren't there to protect us!"

"And just where is Lauren right now? Is she with you?" Christian asks taking a cold tone.

"No, she's not with me," I whisper, looking away.

He takes my guilt over Raven's death as guilt for leaving here. "So you're standing here lecturing _me_ about leaving and yet you left her! At least when I left you had each other!"

There's barely half a second between the moment he stops talking and the time it takes for me to pin him to the ground.

He looks startled as I yell, "You don't know _**any**_thing!I haven't had raven for 2 years! **Two years!** She's dead Christian! She's dead." I whisper the last two words and loosen my hold on his shoulders so if he wanted he could easily shove me off.

He doesn't though, just says, "W-what?" in a shocked voice.

"Dead. She's dead! OK? She's dead!I never would have left her like you did! Never!"

"What happened?" he demands.

But I can't stop. I've never really acknowledged her death beyond the first month. I didn't forget her like I did with Christian, I just didn't dwell on it much. I didn't let myself hurt over it. Instead I completely focused on what my father did to me. It was the only way I knew how to cope, egging him on, playing the dangerous game, walking on a tightrope, seeing how far I could go before he snapped. Because I deserved every hit, every touch, all the pain. Because I killed her.

I can't stop. I don't cry or anything, just keep screaming that she's dead.

Christian lets me go on for about 3 minutes, maybe a little longer, before grabbing my shoulders and giving me a firm but gentle shake. "Nick, what happened?"

"Fang," I snap. "My name is Fang! Not Nick! Not Nicholas! I'm _Fang!"_

He blinks then nods. "Ok, Fang, what happened to Lauren?"

I get off him and turn away. "Raven. She liked to be called Raven."

"So you two changed your names to Fang and Raven. How did she die?" Christian presses desperately. He _has_ to know. He _needs_ to know.

I can't tell him. He can't know. He shouldn't know. It's too horrible. It's my fault.

He seems to pick up that I'm done talking, at least about Raven, as I grab my shirt and gloves and put them back on,

"Ok, ok we can talk about La – Raven…later, just please don't leave yet," he begs.

"Begging is pathetic," I say in a blend tone, hiding my hurt and pain behind a wall of impassiveness.

"You've never begged?" Christian asks in a neutral tone.

"No." _Yes._ It depends on what he's talking about.

He watches me, waiting to see what I'm going to do and I watch him, waiting for him to make a move. He doesn't though.

We stand in silence for a minute or so until I say, "You should put your shirt back on."

He quickly grabs it off the floor and slips it on. "Are you hungry?"

Starving, actually but I don't say so. I think the last time I ate more than just scraps was McDonalds. I can't look weak though. _Showing weakness in pathetic._ I have to show Christian that I'm strong, that I don't need him. Because I do _**not**_ need him.

"No," I lie perfectly but my stomach has other ideas and growls really freakin loud before I even finish the word.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Sit down and I'll get a pizza in the oven. I'm not much of a cook but even _I_ can make a frozen pizza," he says. "And then we can get some medicine in you because even though you're probably hopped up on adrenaline right now you're still sick."

I watch as he goes to the kitchen. I could ruin now, that would be the smart thing. I probably should but I want to hear what he has to say. That and if he's offering food and medicine I'm not going to argue. I'm so hungry and the headache is starting to come back a bit. Maybe I can get some money somehow.

Christian comes back in and sits in the chair he'd been in when I woke up and gestures for me to take the couch. When I don't he says, "The pizza should be ready in about 15 minutes."

I half nod and watch him closely, wondering what he's expecting. For me to pour my heart and soul out to him? For me to thank him for 'saving' me? Maybe he'll offer to let me stay? Ha, yeah right, like that'll happen.

"How long ago did you leave?" he asks then quickly adds, "You don't have to tell me anything, I just want to know. I want to help you N-….Fang…"

"Why?"

"What?"

"What do you want to help me?"

"Because you're my brother," he says simply. It's never that simple.

"Right, well, that didn't make much of a difference to you when I was 6," I sneer.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left. I want to help you."

"It's a bit late for you to _help_," I snap.

Christian sighs. "I know but I'm going to try."

"Fine, whatever, I'm a waste of your time anyway. You want to know where I've been staying? Where ever I end up when I pass out. What else do you want to know?"

"You could stay with me," he suggests.

I had thought about that a bit but I didn't really think he'd _offer_.

"No thanks," I say like he just suggested I let a poisonous snake bite me.

"I get that you're mad at me but you can't just live on the streets. It's not good."

Am I mad at him? Of course but it's more than just that. I don't – can't – trust him. He had his one chance and he blew it, I'm not going to give him another. I have some severe trust issues which I find to be perfectly reasonable, considering. It's not like I've met many decent people. It's more than just the fact that I'm mad and can't trust him tough. It's that…he hurt me…emotionally. I don't dwell on the emotional pain, it's not something I'm good with. I've always hidden my emotions, all but anger and rage.

"Why not? I like the streets," I say. It's a half lie.

"You like not knowing what to expect day by day, not knowing where your next meal is going to come from, not knowing who's going to try to hurt you, try to _rape_ you?"

I ignore the points he just made and rather than admit he's totally and completely right I counter with, "I like being _free_ and not having someone tell me _do this_ or _don't do that_ and _be home by 11_ and _do your homework_ and _go to school _or _behave._"

"You're still young. You need a stable environment to grow up in. If you ever want to have a life, get a job, anything, you'll have to go to college and for that you'll need a _home."_

"Who says I want any of that?"

"What _do_ you want?"

"I don't know," I say honestly. Right now it's all about the day to day.

"Please Fang, consider moving in with me?"

I don't say anything and the timer on the pizza saves us from a long awkward silence.

Christian goes to get it and I follow him, taking a seat at the kitchen table and watch as he gets the pizza from the oven and slices it into 4 quarters.

He sets the pan down in front of me and says "Be careful it's h-"

He doesn't bother to finish because I've already taken a huge bite from one slice, barely noticing that's it's just come straight from the oven and it's burning my mouth. I don't even really taste it, it's hot, it's food and I'm very _**very**_ hungry.

"See? I knew you were hungry," Christian says with a soft smile.

"Shut up," I mumble around a mouthful of pizza.

Christian chuckles and get up, walking out. "I'm going to get you some medicine."

So trusting. Such a mistake.

The second he's out of the room I start raiding the kitchen, looking for small food I can easily carry and money. A lot of people keep emergency money in the kitchen.

I move quickly, stuffing my pockets with anything that will fit. When I find the money, about $150, I slip in into my choker and take off.

Do I feel bad? Just a bit.

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><p><strong>Review! Criticize! Flame if you must!<strong>

**Suffer in Silence readers, I'm sorry but I sorta dug myself a hole and have no idea where to go from there. Plus my effort is more focused on this story. I'm so very open to suggestions for it, anything would be helpful. I'll try and write a bit over my Winter break. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the long wait people, but here it finally is, chapter 5. Review. If I get enough I might update a little faster. Always open to criticism.**

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><p><span>Christian's POV<span>

I'm so glad Nick decided to stay, that least long enough to eat and get some medicine. I hope he stays longer.

I've always regretted leaving him and Lauren. Always. And now I finally get the chance to attempt to make it up to him.

Of course he's mad at me, I didn't expect him to jump at my offer to move in, but I'm hoping if I can get him to stick around long enough we can work something out.

Maybe I can even get him to open up a bit, tell me what happened to Lauren. Actually, if he told me anything I'd be happy. It's just good to finally see him.

Nine years is a long time to go without seeing your little brother. Not that he's so little any more. He's nearly as tall as I am and as skinny as he is he's all muscle. I can tell he's wicked strong. When he leaped at me for commenting about Lauren I could feel his strength, even though he is sick, hurt, and hungry. I'd hate to get in a fight with him at his full strength. I'm pretty strong myself, I work out at a nearby gym when I have the time, but Nick is something else.

Even if he says he calls himself Fang now he'll always be Nick in my mind. I'll call him Fang aloud but only because he clearly does _not_ like being called Nick. And Lauren…I guess I should probably call her Raven.

I bet she was pretty. If she died two years ago they would have been 13. She would have grown up to be gorgeous, you could just tell. It was one of those things you just knew.

It occurs to me as I'm rooting though my medicine cabinet that maybe she's _not_ dead. I mean, Nick can't be completely 100% mentally stable. Maybe something happened, like she was taken away or sent to boarding school or _something_ and in his mind she's dead. I doubt she would have left him.

The small possibility that she's alive strengthens my resolve to get him to tell me what happened. I won't push, I don't want to chase him away, but I _do_ need to know.

"There you are," I say happily as I find the bottle I'm looking for.

Going back to the kitchen I nearly gasp in shock. One of the chairs is knocked over and all the cabinets are open. Some of them have food knocked from them. He stole my food! And my money, I realize as I check the emergency money I have stashed. Little-

Actually, that was pretty smart. Taking stock of what he took I have to admit the kid's pretty good. I was gone for maybe 5 minutes, _tops_, and he silently took my money and quite a bit of food too. He probably would have taken more but he didn't have anything to carry it in.

Sighing, I decide I should probably call Lila, seeing as I promised I'd call when he woke up.

"Hello?" Lily answers on the second ring.

"Hi Lily," I say, unable to resist a smile. "Can I talk to your mom? It's Christian."

"Hi Christian!" she squeals happily. "Just a minute."

"Ok."

Lily starts babbling about a new toy and I find myself smiling and becoming happy with her.

After a few minutes Lila takes the phone. "Go play with your toys Lily," she says and I hear the scampering sounds of Lily running off. "How's the boy?"

"Gone," I say. "He ran off when I went to get some medicine. He took some food and money too."

"Oh…Nick. You called him Nick. Why?"

"Because…he's…my brother."

"Your what? You never told me you had a brother!"

I figure I should just come out with it all now. "I never told you I had a sister either."

"Christian! I thought we were honest with each other!" She sounds hurt. She has every right to be.

"I know. We are. Those are the only thing you don't know about me."

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"I-….I couldn't," I say, my voice cracking.

"Why? Christian, what's wrong?"

"You know that my father used to abuse me," I say.

"Yes," she says, and I can tell she's trying to be patient.

"And that I left when I was 16."

"You ran away."

"Right. I never told you that I abandoned my little brother and sister." It hurts to say it out loud. It makes it too real.

"Oh, Christian," she gasps.

"Please…Don't judge me Lila. I know it was a horrible thing to just _leave_ them like that. To leave them with _him_. Not a day goes by that I haven't regretted it. Haven't felt ashamed for what I did."

"Why…?"

"I don't know…I was scared….I couldn't take what he wanted me to do anymore."

"Why didn't you just take them with you?"

"I don't know Lila," I groan. "I was stupid. I was 16 and scared and wasn't thinking about them."

"Can you come over? I want to talk to you in person."

"Sure…I guess. I'll be over in a few minutes."

With a heavy sigh I start walking to Lila's. I never wanted her to find out what I did. Too late now.

Lila opens the door before I can even knock and ushers me into the kitchen.

"You made lunch?" I ask.

"I was cooking when you called," she tells me.

"Oh…"

"So if you found Nick…did he say where your sister was? What's her name?"

"Lauren. He said she was dead."

"Oh, Christian," she gasps softly, squeezing my shoulder.

"He might be wrong," I point out. "Dead might mean gone. Maybe she just went to boarding school or something."

"Was he mad at you?"

"Pretty pissed," I tell her. "We fought for a bit. Well, he attacked me."

"Are you hurt?"

"No he was pretty weak but still damn strong. He was so young when I left….He didn't know who I was."

Lila lightly whacks the back of my head for cursing. "How old was he?"

"Six. I'm ten years older. I think he just blocked the memories."

"I still can't believe you'd just _leave_ like that. It really doesn't sound like you."

"I was scared Lila. I didn't know what to do. But I want to help him now."

"Of course." She puts a plate of sandwiches on the table and calls for Lily, who comes running.

"Christian!"

"Hey Little Flower," I say as she crawls onto my lap.

"Who was that boy you and Mommy took to your house? Can I meet him?"

"He was my little brother," I tell her. It feels good to say that. My little brother. My baby brother. "Maybe someday. He had to go, but if he comes back you can meet him. Now eat your lunch."

Lily happily munches on a sandwich as she talks. "Do you think he'll like me?"

"Of course he will. Everybody loves you Lily," I tell her honestly. I don't know what but she always worries people won't like her.

Fang's POV

I run. I don't stop until I'm safely in the city. I've never really been out in the suburban area before. It's too open. Too neighborhood like. A random kid in all black would stand out too much. I blend in better in the city.

Once I get a little in the city I stop running and slow to a walk until I find a safe ally to stop in.

The total of what I took from my brother is $143 and some snack bars. Not much but few people keep so much money out in the open. Ok, so it was fairly hidden, but still.

I wonder if he'll try to find me. Probably not. If he wants to help me it's probably just so he can feel less guilty about leaving.

"Ng…" I groan, pressing a hand to my head as I slide down the wall. Maybe I should have stuck around for a little longer for the medicine. More food wouldn't have hurt either.

Oh well. He left me once. Why should I trust him? I shouldn't. I don't.

Sleep doesn't help much. I wake up with such a pounding headache and so sore I just want to go back to sleep. I'm burning up where I'm not touching the ground and freezing cold where I am. I need help.

I'm not sure how long I lay there, hours, or maybe days, but eventually I somehow get the strength and will to stand. Leaning on the wall it only takes me a second to realize what brought me out of my daze.

"Shit man, he's awake!" a voice, it sounds younger, maybe 13, says in a panicked tone.

"Please, the kids barely standing," a second male voice says. This one sounds older, maybe 16 or 17, and cruel. "Search him."

I hear some hesitant footsteps coming closer and I manage to force my eyes open a bit. I see the blurry outline of 2 people, one older, one younger. The younger seems scared and uncertain, desperate.

The smaller one steps inform of me and reaches for my pocket. Before I even thing it though I punch him right in the face with a surprising amount of force.

He cries out in pain and stumbles back in surprise.

The older one makes and annoyed sound and I see a small flash of silver. Shit.

A wave of dizziness crashes over me and I can't keep up with what's going on. I hear shouting, silence, the more shouting, panicked this time. Pain erupts in my side and the boys are gone.

When I look down it's almost unreal. The knife sticking out of my side. The blood slowly staining my dark shirt. It clears my head instantly but leaves my senses in a dull fog.

I know not to pull the knife out, that it's keeping my blood in, but I can't exactly walk around with a knife in my side. My brain kicks into overdrive and I realize I only have two options. Go to the hospital, be asked a lot of questions, lie, maybe be forced out, get sent back to my father. My other options…almost worse….go back to Christian's. Or death. There's always death. Just not sure I'm ready for that yet.

Unfortunately between me and Christian there's a lot of people. Hell, he might not even be home. It's my only option though.

I take off running – ok, more like awkwardly jogging – trying to sorta keep my arm covering my side so the knife isn't too visible. There's not that many people so it's probably a weekday, right in the middle of the working hours. What did Christian say he was? A doctor? I doubt he'll be home. But I go anyway.

And by some miracle he opens the door when I knock, and catches me when I fall.

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><p><strong>Done. So sorry for the long wait. Ok, here's what's going on. I'm going to get back into updating. You people are going to review so I want to even more. SiS readers, I promise that I'm working on it. I'm almost-ish done the next chapter so expect it soon. Review and tell me anything. Criticism is always welcome.<strong>

**Sorry for the cliffy, but I'll try to update soon so you don't have to suffer (in Silence :P) long.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Ok, here you go. Remember, review!**

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><p><span>Christian's POV<span>

"Lila?" I call into the kitchen, shifting Fang to a better hold. "Can you get the gauze from my room?"

"Um, sure. Christian, what's going on?" her voice is fainter and I can tell she's in my room.

"Tell you in a second," I yell back, laying Fang on the couch.

He's pale and shivering, hair matted down to his face from sweat but what concerns me more is the knife sticking out of his side.

It was only two days ago that he was here, and he looks twenty times worse now. I might have to take him to the hospital.

"Christian, what's – oh!" Lila exclaims as she comes in.

I take the gauze from her and pull the knife out, quickly pressing the bandages over the bleeding hole. The knife's a bit bigger than I would have thought. He'll probably have to go to the hospital, there's most likely internal damage.

"Can you go get the car? It'd be faster to just drive to the hospital."

"Of course, I-"

"No," Fang croaks weakly. "No hospital…"

"Sh," I order him. "Don't try to talk. You need to go to the hospital. You could have internal damage."

"No hospital," she says more firmly, serious. "I'm fine."

"You have a hole in your side, you're _not_ fine."

"Just bandage it, I'm fine," he insists.

"Fang…"

"No hospital," he says again, weakly, starting to slip from consciousness.

"Fine," I say, feeling bad for lying. He'll hate me more but I'm saving his life. On the other hand, if he doesn't have internal bleeding he'll kill me.

"Thank you," he whispers, then passes out.

I quickly scoop him up and turn to Lila. "Get the car started."

"But you said-" she starts them sighs. "Ok."

I follow her out to the car, getting in the back with Fang.

Fang's POV

I wake up to white and a decision to murder Christian the second I get my hands on him. Fucking bastard took me to the hospital! I fucking knew I couldn't trust him!

I quickly sit up, reaching to pull the IV out. Moving doesn't hurt much so they must have given me painkillers. Morphine maybe. It feels nice. Not _numb_ so much as dull.

"Hey, stop it," Christian says, reaching out to gently grab my hand.

I jerk away with a hiss. "Fuck off."

"You're mad."

"Nooooo," I growl snarkily. "Are you _sure?_ How can you tell?"

"I'm sorry. But I was right. The knife pierced your stomach," he says.

"Great, thanks for patching me up. I'll be leaving me now," I snap, reaching for the IV again. "Where are my clothes?"

"You can't leave. You'll tear the stitches, inside and out."

"I'm not staying," I tell him, resisting the urge to punch him as he grabs my hand more firmly.

"N-Fang. Listen to me. Please?"

"You're not giving me much of a choice," I say annoyed.

"I'm sorry. If I wasn't positive I wouldn't have brought you. Stay until they release you then come home with me. We can talk then. But you really do need rest. You're still sick and hurt," he says in an impossibly logic tone.

"Fine," I hiss slowly, laying back down and pulling my hand away. I'll just leave later tonight, when he's gone. He can't stay forever.

"Don't even think about it," he says, and I nearly have a heart attack. No way he knew what I was thinking.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Leaving. I'll make sure you can't. I _do_ work here you know."

Well, damn it. That sucks. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

"Because it's exactly what I would have done in your position. We're more alike than you think Fang. We both lived with him."

"It doesn't make us the same." I look away, opting instead to look around the room. One wall is all windows, but from what I can see we're pretty high up. I could climb but Christian's right, it would be really easy to tear the stitches. There's not much else besides a couple chairs and the heart monitor and such. And of course, it's all _white._ Just like the basement. It even smells the same, just without the smell of blood. _My_ blood.

"I really am sorry. About everything," Christian apologizes, sounding genuinely sorry.

"Whatever." I love that word. It simultaneously conveys that I don't care _and_ pisses people off.

Christian smiles softly and leans back in his chair, satisfied that I'm not going to bolt. "So do you want to tell me what happened?"

"No," I say coldly.

"Fair enough. What do you like?"

I look at him skeptically, eyebrow raised. "You're kidding. Do you really think I want to bond with you or whatever?"

"Maybe?" he says hopefully.

"In your dreams."

"Alright, I get it. You're mad and you don't trust me. I'll leave you alone. For now."

I nod a bit and close my eyes tiredly. Maybe when I open them I'll be somewhere else. Right, that's a thought.

When I wake up again it's sort of greyish/yellow outside. Early morning probably. The room doesn't look any different, just a different lighting. Christian's asleep in the chair. I wonder how he managed to pull that, staying overnight. I thought that wasn't allowed. Then again, he did say he works here.

I watch my 'brother' sleep for a few minutes, taking in his relaxed face and soft smile. I can't help but wonder what he's dreaming about. It must be good. I don't really know what that feels like. I never really had good dreams.

After a couple minutes he starts to wake up, blinking a few times. It takes him a second to figure out where he is. "Fang?" he asks instantly, looking at me. He looks a little surprised I didn't leave. "You're still here?"

"Yeah. I'm not an idiot. I know when to just sit back," I say emotionlessly. Right now, that's my best defense against him.

"I-I know, I just figured you'd leave and find somewhere else to rest."

"Whatever," I say, rolling my eyes and looking at the ceiling.

"Are you hungry? The food here's not _great_ but it's ok."

He has to know I'm starving but he's obviously going to wait for an answer. I nod a bit.

Christian gets up but before he can actually get anywhere a doctor walks in. He looks about Christian's age, maybe a year or two older, with sandy blonde hair and blue-grey eyes. His name tag says Dr. Caswel.

"Brian?" Christian blinks. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking on my patient," Dr. Brian Caswel says casually.

"Well, yeah, but….why?"

"Because you're my friend and I figured it'd be better to talk to you _before_ calling social services. I would have done this earlier but I haven't had time."

"Talk to me about what? Why would you call social services?"

Is he really that slow? Ok, let's work this through people. I'm in a hospital gown which means at some point someone must have changed me. Removing my clothes would involve seeing me exposed, which would plainly show off scars and bruises. What do doctors think when they see that?

"Wait! You can't think _I_ did that to him!" Christian shouts after way too long a silence.

"No, of course not, but you know the rules. I'm legally bound to report abuse. And you've never mentioned a brother before."

"We haven't been in touch until recently. When I left for college we sort of fell out. He's not being abused."

"Ok, maybe he gets in fights at school sometimes. That would explain the bruises, but not the scars. Christian, some of those are as old as 8 or 9 years."

No way. Can they seriously tell how old the scars are? Is it how they heal or that they've stretched or something? That's so cool.

Christian mentally does the math, figuring out how old I'd have been and gasps softly. Guess daddy didn't start giving him scars till he was older. Then again, he didn't rape him till he was 10 so maybe he did wait longer.

"I-he-we're-" Christian stutters weakly. Hm, I thought he'd be a better liar than this. Or he'd at least have a cover story.

"It doesn't matter what happened," I intone coldly. "It happened a long time ago."

After a second Christian nods. "Fang is safe with me, I swear. Anything that happened, happened in the past. Like he said, it doesn't matter. You have to trust me."

"I do. Believe me, I do. It's the other doctors that'll be harder to convince. I can get them off your back but you have to tell me what's going on."

"Fuck off," I snap. "It's none of your business."

"Fang," Christian scolds, startled I just cursed I think.

"Well it's not. It should be enough for him that we both say it doesn't matter."

"I'm just telling you how it works. I'll take care of it Christian, but at some point I need to know what I'm covering for, ok? I don't want to press you because you _are_ my friend, but at some point."

"Thank you," Christian says with a nod. "I'll…consider it…"

Brian turns to me. "I need to check your injury and get your temperature."

Naturally, I would have done it anyway, my eyes narrow and my jaw clamps shut.

Dr. Caswel looks meaningfully at Christian who pleads, "Fang, please. He won't hurt you," he adds softer, so Brian can barely hear him.

I take a second to relax myself and Dr. Caswel hands me one of those old thermometers. Ya know, the stupid ones that take like three minutes and are always freezing. Yeah, _those._ Reluctantly I slide it under my tongue and force myself to _not_ flip out when he starts taking the bandages off.

"Hey," Christian whispers softly.

I glance over at him. Ever since I left no one's really touched me, except the pervs I try so desperately to avoid. It's taking a lot of effort to ignore Dr. Caswel's gentle touches and keep my face relaxed and breathing even. Not sure how well I'm doing.

"Your ears are pierced?" he asks. Ok, maybe not the best distraction ever but I'll roll with it.

I nod. I remember getting them done too. "Just the one," I mumble around the thermometer in my mouth.

"When?"

"We were twelve," I say, thinking back. "On our birthday." I kinda have to keep it short cause it's not easy to talk around the thermometer.

"One a year. Did it hurt?"

"Raven said it stung a bit." If it did I don't notice. She was a little worried about the pain but I told her it wouldn't hurt at all. A lie maybe, but it helped. She made me hold her hand, not that I minded.

"I'm surprised Dad let you do it." I'm pretty sure he means 'I'm surprised he didn't rip them out.'

"I don't think he really noticed. Or if he did, he was distracted." Also code. 'He was busy doing other things at the moment when he would notice.'

Christian nods and Dr. Caswel bandages my side, takes the thermometer, checks it, and looks up at me. "You should be fine to leave tomorrow. You'll have to take it easy for at least a week though. Nothing strenuous, maybe take a day or two off school."

"I'll make sure he gets plenty of rest Brian. Thanks," Christian says with a smile. The second after Brian leaves he turns to me all serious again. "Speaking of school."

"Hey, I never said I was staying with you. Just till I'm ok to leave."

"But…..Do you really want to live out there? You deserve to have a life, a home, friends. A shot at college and a future."

"Not with you. I'll work it out. You did, how hard can it be?"

"I had help Fang. I had a plan," he says, just a little harsh and cold.

"Whatever. I'm not staying with you."

"Look, let's just see how the week goes and talk then ok? Please?"

I take a second to think about it. A safe place to sleep, with food and warmth, and no freaks. It sounds good. "What's the catch?"

"What?" Christian asks, sounding confused. "No catch. You're family."

I resist the urge to point out that family didn't seem to matter to him much 9 years ago. Instead I sigh and nod. "A week."

"Thank you." He lets out a breath. "I'll go get breakfast."

I nod and he leaves.

* * *

><p><strong>Check out Suffer in Silence and review! I'm working on the next chapter for both stories so they should be up some time soon. More reviews=faster update.<strong>


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